


In the Shadow of the Silver Moon

by GlassAlice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassAlice/pseuds/GlassAlice
Summary: Perhaps I imagined it?thought Harry. He was sure no earthly creature could look that stunning. Perhaps it was some spirit borne of boredom and nettle wine.Harry Potter AU with elements of Romeo and Juliet and Jane Austen. James and Lily are alive, Voldemort never came to power, Tom Riddle was just an extremist whose campaign never got off the ground. There was no war and no chosen one. Everyone who died in the books is not dead. Harry grew up a wizard in high society instead of a muggle.





	In the Shadow of the Silver Moon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☆ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter and their son, Harry Potter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and their son, Ronald Weasley."

The Potters and the Weasleys strolled through the ornate silver doors, laughing amongst themselves. Each was dressed in elegant robes and ornate masks for the masquerade. At age sixteen, this was Ron and Harry's official debut into wizarding society, and their families had spared no expense in their garb. 

Lily and James Potter were in modest purple and white robes. Flowers sprouted under Lily's feet and entwined themselves in her robes with each step. Purple and white flower petals lined the corners of her eyes and three fairies danced in her hair like a crown. James sported vines that crawled up his robes and green leaves climbing on his face. A simple laurel crown adorned his head. 

Molly and Arthur Weasley were dressed in black, rivulets of silver falling like an icy waterfall down the ruffles of their robes. They carried matching masks of ice that snowed whenever they moved. But it was Ron's robes that really shone. The couple had poured most of their savings into his elegant costume to show off their youngest son. 

Ron's ginger hair was enchanted to look like an active flame, and his fiery crimson robes shot out bursts of red and gold sparks as he moved. A Phoenix mask framed Ron’s bright blue eyes in red and gold feathers. The flames danced around his face in patterns that exploded out from the bridge of his nose and curled around his eyes. Ron turned to smile at Harry as they entered.

Harry returned Ron’s smile nervously. He wasn't ready for this. Harry thanked his lucky stars that his debut, at least, was a masquerade. Unlike Ron's older brothers’ who had to attend a Solstice Ball. In fact, Harry considered himself twice blessed that the pair were not here today. Stories held that the twins’ debut was legendary, and Harry was sure he couldn’t handle much more than showing up and standing around.

He glanced down at his black robes. They caught the light as he walked, shimmering green, blue, and deep purple. Harry used his black, gloved hands to adjust his mask, hanging a little too low for him to see through. A black beak stood out from his nose and inky feathers surrounded his face. Each feather was tipped in gold and blended back into his ebony hair. When Harry had first donned the mask and spied his reflection, he wasn't able to tell where the feathers ended and his hair began. Truth be told, he'd only picked this particular costume because the mask blended so well with his hair it made it seem as if the unruly waves were styled on purpose. He took a deep breath and followed Ron into the ballroom. 

Soon, Harry had settled into a corner and chatted comfortably with Ron as he sipped on his blue nettle wine. This wasn't going so bad. Maybe he could make it through the night without having to dance with anyone. Or talk to anyone. Maybe no one would notice if he stayed here, in this corner with Ron, all night. Safe. 

A polite ‘ahem’ interrupted them. "Excuse me, Sirs,” said a short and chubby man with rosy cheeks. “I would be most pleased to introduce Miss Romilda Vane.". 

Ron gave a lopsided smile. "How do you do Miss Vane? Ron Weasley,” he proffered his hand and clasped the gloved fingers of Romilda. “It's a pleasure,” he continued, kissing the gloved hand.

Harry nodded quietly, nearly pulling a muscle trying to hold back an eye roll at his friend. 

"Romilda is studying under Madam Pomfrey in healing magics,” the plump man continued. “She is a very bright student and is Pomfrey's most prized pupil." 

"Is that so?" asked Ron, lifting an eyebrow. "Well then, Miss Vane, would you like to tell me about your studies during a dance?"

Romilda giggled and nodded, accepting his hand. Harry couldn't stop from rolling his eyes this time. How dare Ron leave him to stand by himself like some wallflower?

Ron winked at Harry before dragging Romilda to dance with him. 

Harry decided to wander around the ball; a moving target was harder to talk to. As he deftly skirted the edge of an eager group, rushing past on the pretense of spotting a friend across the room, a delicate hand slipped into the crook of his elbow. Surprised, he looked at the gloved hand and followed it up to the familiar face. 

"Mother," he smiled. 

"How is the ball dear?” she cooed. “Have you met anyone cute?"

"I really am doing my best,” he assured her, “but I can't seem to find anyone interesting."

"Ah, well then,” Lily replied, tugging his elbow to change his direction, “let me keep you busy by introducing you to a few families." She winked, and Harry gratefully accepted her suggestion. His mum would drag him around, and do all the talking for him. No one would ask Harry to dance now.

Harry nodded politely and smiled appropriately as his mother ushered him around the room, making his introductions to different families. It was during a particularly boring conversation with Mr. Trelawney that Harry spotted something out of the corner of his eye. 

A tall, gaunt figure made its way through the crowd, adorned in white from head to toe, shrouded in a cloak lined with a pale fur that was almost silver. The figure had blond hair and ivory skin, painting an unearthly image in the achromic guise. With every swish of that alabaster cloak, bright stars scattered, each dropping stardust in sterling showers. Spider's silk weaved around the unearthly phantom’s eyes and glistened with dew, mouth and eyes tinted slightly blue to create a feeling of chill. Harry's mouth dropped. 

His mother glanced at him and whispered, "I think you've found something more interesting than me, why don't you go introduce yourself?"

Snapping suddenly back to his senses, Harry pursed his lips guiltily at his mother before whispering a brief, "Thank you" and raising his voice loud enough to make his excuses from Mr. Trelawney’s presence.

Training his eyes on the figure in white, Harry weaved through the crowded hall. The flow of revelers pressed in front of him, cutting him off from further pursuit. The snowy figure soon turned a corner and was gone from view.

Cursing under his breath, Harry’s frustration set aside his gentility, and the dark-haired young man shoved his way across the ballroom. In a rush, he turned the corner where he'd seen the figure disappear. 

No one was there.

 _Perhaps I imagined it?_ thought Harry. He was sure no earthly creature could look that stunning. Perhaps it was some spirit borne of boredom and nettle wine. _Spirits made of spirits._ Harry trudged down the corridor toward the western balcony, disappointment heavy in his shoulders. If he couldn't have his specter, he might as well get some fresh air.

Yanking open the double doors, the cool night air rushed passed him. The night was slightly damp with summer rain, a sweet reprieve from the day’s beating sun. The doors opened up to a simple circular balcony with a white balustrade handrail lining the edge. A few exotic plants scattered across it in a diverse set of planters, giving the plain architecture some splash of color. Harry gasped. But the balustrade and the plants had not elicited intake of breath. There, at the edge of the balcony, was his phantom.

Harry stood in the doorway drinking in the sight. The iridescent starlight complimented the monochrome vision that leaned against the handrail. Silver moonbeams bleached the pallid locks to a pearly white, blending them into the rest of the frosted trappings. The sterling-streaked hair fell loosely around a stiff collar at the nape. The blond tendrils curled up slightly as they made contact with the gossamer fabric. The phantasm had discarded the cloak on a nearby bench. With the cloak gone, Harry was free to appreciate the form fitting trousers that grasped lank legs and met at slim hips. The figure’s chest was not broad, and from this vantage point in the moonlight, it was difficult to determine if they were male or female. 

Harry stepped bravely out onto the balcony. "It's a cool night isn't it?" 

The figure started, peering back at Harry. Gray eyes met green with a jolt. 

Harry approached, slowly sidling up to the side. From here he could see that the figure was male, with a sharp nose and high cheekbones. The thin lips were spelled with frost which was what made them appear blue. But the _eyes_ , his eyes were painted in delicate, blue strokes that caused the grey irises to reflect shards of azure.

"Hello, little raven. What brings you here?" The voice was cold like the rest of him and it wasn't hard to miss the teasing tone. 

Harry drew himself up to his full height. "I just wanted to catch some air. The ball can be quite stifling." 

The figure turned his gaze back on the moon, hanging low in the sky above the gardens. 

Silence stretched between them. Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably, worried to break the silence. He was the interloper here; It wasn't like he'd been invited. Technically, he was the one intruding on this other boy's solitued, but his feet refused to move.

"You seem familiar," the boy in white spoke, breaking through the terse silence at last. 

Harry’s face crinkled behind his mask, "I don't think we’ve been introduced." 

"Hm." Half a syllable was all the stranger’s reply. 

Harry quickly gathered up his manners, "I'm Harry Potter, son of Lily and James Potter." He held out his hand.

The other boy's eyes flashed, but Harry couldn't discern what emotion might have flicked out from behind those eyes.

An elegant, white gloved hand slid into his, but rather than shake it, the other boy gripped Harry’s fingers and drew them to his lips. They were cold as ice.

"It's a pleasure Harry Potter, son of Lily and James Potter."

For the umpteenth time that night, Harry was thankful for his mask as he felt his cheeks flush so red that they banished any chill in the air. 

Harry’s hand was still grasped steadily by the mysterious boy when he riled up the courage to ask, "Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

A smile crept across blue lips, "I'm afraid that if you knew who I was, you'd not want my company. So I’ll keep that a secret."

Grasping his mask with his free hand, Harry lifted it from his face, staring directly into the other boy’s eyes, "It doesn’t matter who you are, just tell me your name."

It was a moment before anything was said. Sighing and closing his eyes, the phantom replied, "You may call me Dragon, if you must call me something." Harry's hand was released and the smile fell from the other boy's face.

"You know my face, my name, and my family yet you won’t tell me yours. Why?"

The other boy, Dragon, sighed, "It would seem that we are ill-fated. It’s best not to get too personal."

"That’s not fair." Harry's voice cracked over his words, the vague answers causing his hackles to rise, "You should at least tell me _something_ about yourself. Then I can decide for myself whether this meeting is ill-fated or not." 

"If that’s what you wish, my fiery raven,” the icy Dragon replied, “then meet me at midnight by the Sea Gardens near the moon blossoms in one fortnight."

The mysterious boy cupped Harry's chin and leaned close until Harry's whole world was filled with silver and grey. "Will you come?" 

Harry could feel the breath puff on his lips and clutched his mask tightly in his hand, wishing he'd had the sense to leave it on to save him one last time tonight. He nodded and Dragon backed away with a smirk. 

"Till then, raven."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☆ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Harry grabbed the black cloak from his wardrobe and spun it around his shoulders. This would be easier with father's invisibility cloak, but James kept it locked up tight. Harry knew from experience, that he had next to no chance of getting through the charms protecting it, and a very good chance of regretting ever trying. Throwing open his window, he stepped out onto his balcony. Harry clutched his Firebolt--a birthday present--and climbed onto the banister’s handrail, praying he wouldn't fall before he flew. The warm of a summer breeze tangled itself in his hair, lapping at his skin. Flying was always exhilarating, but the excitement mixed with the apprehension of getting caught caused his heart and stomach to flutter. With a deep breath, and one last glance back into his room to steel his resolve, Harry quickly mounted his broom and pushed off into the sky. 

It wasn't long until Harry landed softly at the Sea Gardens. He'd been there many times with his family for flower festivals and soirees, but the light of the moon at midnight cast a shadow that warped it into something unworldly. The hedge labyrinth was no longer a fun game, but a maze of secrets with no answers. The flowers glowed furtively, casting ghostly images over the lush grass. The entire garden was silent except for a few crickets. This was now a place of enigma and mischief, not of frivolity and society. 

Harry glided over to the moon flowers. As big as Harry's head and shooting beads of light like fireflies into the air. He'd only seen them shut tight as they were in the light of day, but it was obvious their true beauty was under a full moon. Harry grasped toward one of the little spheres of floating light as it lilted past his face, only for it to disappear in his closing fist. He was unsure what he’d expected to happen; enchanted blossoms were rarely more than illusions. 

"You came."

Harry glanced up toward the sound of that cool voice, his heart skipping. 

A figure leaned against a willow to his right. _How long has he been there?_ Harry wondered. Surely… Surely he hadn’t seen Harry playing with the flowers? Harry groaned inwardly. That was just his luck.

The other boy, “Dragon”, stepped out from the shade of the willow into the glow of the moon blossoms. Tonight he donned green robes with gold lining that flashed in the moonlight, his robes flaring out with every step. Dragon still wore the spider silk mask from the day of the ball, his face hidden and unknown. Harry felt a twang of disappointment.

"Of course I came,” he replied in irritation. “I offered my name and received nothing in return, it was terribly rude of you."

The other chuckled and Harry wasn’t sure how to react. "I see,” the spurious Dragon began, “so it’s only a name you’re after? In that case, I already gave you one--Dragon."

"No. Tell me who you are. There isn't any reason to hide your identity."

"There isn’t? How can you be sure when you don’t know who I am?"

Harry faltered. It was true that he could be a muggle-born or worse. But if this stranger knew who Harry was, he should know that Harry had nothing against muggle-borns; his own mother being one. And if he was a squib from a high-class family, well, that might be more difficult, but Harry's curiosity was too great. He didn't care if this boy was wanted by the Ministry of Magic, he just had to know. 

"It doesn't matter, I will still be your friend," offered Harry.

The playful grey eyes turned cold, "I don’t need a _friend_ , Harry Potter. I didn’t call you here and risk my family to be nothing more than friends. If you don’t understand at least that much, then you should go." The boy turned to leave.

"No wait!" Harry grabbed onto Dragon's sleeve and blushed. "I...I do know. I know what this means. We’re both out in society now and this is what I want, no matter what. So please, just tell me who you are."

The boy turned, studying every aspect of Harry's face for what seemed like a millennia. Harry shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, but held his eyes steady. 

Slowly, too slowly, the boy's free hand came up to his mask, gliding it up from his face. Harry saw Dragon in plain view for the first time. He was beautiful, no one could deny that. The high cheekbones, hinted at behind the mask, Harry now saw in full splendor. The face was all sharp angles and high planes, but was softened by stormy grey eyes and blond hair which danced in the breeze. 

He was beautiful. But he was also a Malfoy. 

Harry’s heart sank in an instant. The Potters and the Malfoys... did not get along. James Potter had taken great care to instruct his son about Lucius Malfoy and and his hate of muggle-borns. Lucius Malfoy had created policies at the Ministry--through bribes, threats, and manipulation-- that directly targeted people like his own mother. Harry’s eyes widened. He drew his hand back as if he were burnt, shifting himself away.

Sadness crept into the grey eyes that stared too sharply at Harry. "Draco Malfoy, son of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy." He bowed slightly, almost sarcastically. 

_Draco. The Dragon._

"You... you can't be a Malfoy." This was so much worse than a squib. His family would **never** understand. **Draco's** family would never understand. This was over before it had even begun. There was never a chance, never a choice. Why on earth did Draco call him here?

"I am,” Draco confirmed. “I am proud to be a Malfoy. I can’t change that, just as you can’t change being a Potter,” Draco replied, and the first signs of apprehension found their way into that confident voice. “But I can’t change this feeling in my heart, either. It was stolen by a raven that night at the ball."

Harry didn't understand. Couldn't understand. "You knew,” stuttered Harry. “You knew our families wouldn't approve, that's why you wanted to meet in secret. You lured me out here."

"You came of your own free will,” Draco corrected, a titch offended. “I tried to warn you, I told you it was better to not know. But here you are. Don’t blame me."

Harry knew he was being unfair blaming Draco, but what else was there besides accusations? There were no other options. "We should never have met here. It doesn't matter how beautiful I think you are, our families would disown us."

"You think I’m... beautiful?" Draco's eyes darkened.

Harry was caught off guard. _Did I say that out loud?_ A mortified Harry replayed their conversation in his head and realized, with horror, that he had. Unable to take back the comment, Harry replied with a confidence that belied the knot in his stomach, "I do. But I’m a Potter and you’re a Malfoy."

"Stop saying those names. What have they got to do with it?!" Draco growled. "Here we are just Harry and Draco, our families are far away. They don’t decide how we feel." He stalked closer to Harry, closing the gap made by Harry's earlier retreat. 

"I can’t just forget my family name," Harry replied, crossing his arms in defense of Draco’s closeness.

"I’m not asking you to," Draco whispered, leaning in. He cupped Harry's chin as he had at the ball, tilting it up so that Harry was forced to meet his eyes. "But I won’t let my family name stop me from being happy. And neither should you, Harry. I think we were both born to be more than just our family names." With just a tip of his head and a shift of his posture Draco's lips brushed Harry's, soft like a butterfly drunk on nectar. 

Harry inhaled a small gasp. His stomach flipped as his arms uncrossed in surprise. Draco was sweet and firm, the thin lips the antithesis of his own full pair. He wanted to feel them more, full and warm, not just a light brush across his. He shifted closer, strengthening the contact. A cool hand brushed through his hair and he reached up to clutch at Draco's robes to steady himself. 

They met again and again, each time with more passion. A wet and greedy tongue licked at his bottom lip. Harry gasped at the sensation, dropping his jaw enough for that pink tongue to find its way into his mouth. It explored, hungry and needy, licking his teeth and twisting around his own tongue. Pleasure ripped through him straight into his toes. He eagerly kissed back sending his own tongue into Draco's mouth, fighting for dominance. 

The need for air became too great and they broke apart panting. Lips swollen and slick with saliva. Draco ran a thumb across Harry's mouth as if trying to taste it with his touch. Harry's eyes were glazed over with passion, previous concerns were long forgotten.

"I will have you." Draco whispered.

"Yes," was all Harry could say.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is my belated birthday fic for Harry <3 My Lance birthday fic got away from me and I wasn't able to finish this one on time. (Why are their birthdays so close together?!?!) But now that both birthday fics are done my main fic can have my full attention. I really enjoyed writing something just _pretty_ so I hope you enjoyed reading it! 
> 
> Special thanks to my lovely beta Starbuck7 who made this from some crappy 3am ramblings into beautiful prose °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> Please stalk me on Tumblr [Yuzuling!](http://yuzuling.tumblr.com/) It's all Voltron and Harry Potter right now. I also post updates every once in a while about my fics.
> 
> Love you all! xoxo


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